Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Planet Earth is currently hurling itself towards the sun in
a bad action movie apocalypse scenario. It’s the only explanation for the
unbelievably beautiful 60+ degree weather we’ve been experiencing. I think the
boys’ generation will survive, but we are actively sterilizing them with video
game exposure to spare future generations the horror of burning up in the sun.

In the meantime, we had a ton of outside fun last weekend.

On Sunday, Diana found a forest preserve way out in the
northwest suburbs that boasted lakes and fauna and miles of well-groomed hiking
trails. It took us twice as long to convince (threaten/cajole) the boys to go
than it did to actually drive to the preserve.

The place was awesome and reminded us that there is more to
nature than the skunk that currently lives under our neighbor’s porch. After a
few trips around the lake and a visit to a staggeringly horrifying men’s room,
we decided to take a walk on one of the aforementioned trails.

We chose the red trail loop because it was red. I hesitated
at the mileage (1.5 miles) because our children are not known for their endurance.
But I figured we could always turn around if the complaints got too loud.

It was simply lovely. We saw huge trees, horse tracks and
neat little wooden bridges. Friendly dogs allowed me to manhandle them. The
only disappointment was the lack of giant piles of horse poop, which we were
hoping to see after the tracks.

After an hour or so marching, Luca decided his legs didn’t work.
He began to complain about his body aching and he was hungry. I was surprised
we hadn’t finished the loop by then. We were slow, but we weren’t that slow.

I checked the next trail marker. Instead of bright red, the
sign was an ominous black. It read “DT.” What was DT? Death trail? Doom Town?
Dumb Tramp?

A middle age couple approached wearing matching vests. I
feared them, so I shuffled to the side and let them pass. Diana, on the other
hand, is a functioning human so she asked them for help.

Vest Man consulted his phone. He pointed us out on his map.
Then he explained we were on the Des Plains River Trail. A beautiful path that
will take ya all the way to Wisconsin. Then he scrolled his phone to where the
red trail meets the DT. It was a long, long scroll.

We had a massive walk ahead of us. Luca knew he had us dead
to rights. He informed us that our punishment for getting him lost was we had
to take them to both McDonalds and Taco Bell for lunch. Feeling the gaze of the
Vests, I said, “Oh no. That food is terrible. We would never…”

Once the Vests were out of earshot, Diana and I agreed to
Luca’s demands and made our way slowly back to base. Diana carried Luca on her
back. I chastised the dogs for tricking me into getting off trail.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Our Mexican hotel butted up against a lovely beach the
locals described as, “No longer where we dumb our sewage” and, “Rumors of
sewage are exaggerated!” The boys and I loved it. They would tumble around the
waves and I would warn them about the vicious butt biting Mexican Carp. And
then pinch their butts.

One morning at breakfast, we met a very nice American
couple, who described walking around Chicago dressed as Klingons when they
heard where we were from. I made a mental note to avoid them.

The man, Jim, suggested we take the boys out on the hotel
provided kayaks later that day. “You don’t gotta sign them out or anything.
We’ll each take a boy and paddle out to the big rocks. It will be great!”
Elijah and Luca burned holes into my brain with their eyes.

There was no way that was going to happen. But I was
interested in a solo kayak mission with the boys. For no other reason than to
prove to them I was willing to put my sons in danger like Jim.

I convinced Luca to go with me first. Eli was a little more
hesitant because boating would cut into his Youtube time. We dragged the
plastic kayak out to the waves and I plopped Luca on top. It suddenly dawned on
me that I had never actually been on a kayak before. And had zero idea how to:
a) get on it. And b) pilot the vessel. I looked out at the waves crashing on
the rocks and thought, “This isn’t how you die, Hamann. You are meant for a
heart attack.”

After capsizing our ship so many times it became more
interesting to the beach vendors than selling their grains of rice with your
name on it, we managed to put out to sea. I demanded total stillness on Luca’s
part, so I could have complete concentration. But after a while we hit calmer
waters and both fell in love with our tiny blue boat.

We then talked about our lives. I told Luca I was kind of
scared about my new job and he described in detail this terrible video game he
was obsessed with called Robloks.

I would press him for more details about his life. “Tell me
one secret you’ve never told anyone, Luca. I promise not to reveal it to
anyone.”

“Well, this one time on Roblocks…”

This became our daily ritual. I would paddle out into the
ocean and beg Luca to tell me about his life and he would regale me of stories
about this one time on Roblocks.

Finally, after days of cajoling, I managed to get Luca to
tell me one non-Roblocks secret he had told no one else. It was so lovely and
silly and the epitome of what a seven-year-old would consider a secret I simply
can’t reveal it to you.

I did get Eli out on the kayak one time, where he told me
the secrets of this funny Youtube video he saw one time.